Out for a Stroll
by Paltomi
Summary: [Dual Destinies spoilers!] During their impromptu stroll during 5-3, Blackquill and Fulbright find themselves alone in an abandoned defendant lobby. But Fulbright had a very specific reason for isolating them here, and Blackquill is about to discover that he has a very specific interest: As it turns out, he totally gets off on being shackled and at his partner's mercy. [smut]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Prompt from the PW kink meme requesting Blackquill unexpectedly getting off by being shackled during sex. Pairing is Blackbright/Phantomquill. Set during Blackquill and Fulbright's walk in the middle of the trial in Turnabout Academy. I'm currently still working on this one, and I'll post the other written chapters over here periodically. Yup, that's about it! Enjoy the smutty smut-ness! ^.^

**Rated M** for language, mild violence, and explicit sexual content containing scenes of dub-con (dubious consent).

**Spoilers for:** Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Dual Destinies

* * *

"Rubbish!" Blackquill murmured as he swept out from behind the prosecution's bench and started toward Fulbright, who was already rising from his seat in the gallery, presumably to detain him. He grabbed the detective's arm when their paths intersected and continued on, undeterred, to the exit. "We will be out on a stroll!" he informed the uneasy-looking bailiff who stepped forward to meet them, and without waiting to hear any objections the man may have had, he dragged Fulbright through the double doors and out into the hallway.

A crowd of civilians had amassed outside the courtroom to await the verdict of the trial, but upon seeing the infamous convict prosecutor emerge, completely unchecked save for a pair of handcuffs (which he had already demonstrated he could break out of on several occasions) and the dubious watch of an absentminded detective, they scattered in alarm to let the duo pass. It was at this point that Fulbright became dead weight, for he seemed uncertain of whether he should allow his charge to walk off some steam or else herd him back into the courtroom as would be proper, and so Blackquill let go of him without any due ceremony and continued on at his own brisk pace while the spectators around him whispered nervously. He made it nearly as far as the end of the corridor before Fulbright finally seemed to make up his mind and dashed after him.

"Prosecutor Blackquill! You can't just go wandering about the courthouse freely! You must be escorted!" he cried, and Blackquill felt the familiar gloved hand slide over his upper arm and clasp it firmly, forcing his stride to a slow walk.

"Hmph. Fool Bright, I hope you didn't misunderstand my intentions in bringing you along," he said as they rounded the corner to a hallway that was significantly more deserted. "I'll have you know, it isn't because I find your company particularly enjoyable."

Fulbright only laughed, like he always did at Blackquill's backhanded insults, and casually, perhaps unwittingly, changed the subject. "Well, I suppose I can't object to you getting in some exercise after being cooped up in your cell all the time!" he said. "Proper exercise and a positive attitude are essential for your rehabilitation and return to society, after all!"

Blackquill gave a short "Hmph!" but deigned otherwise not to answer. Fulbright continued to prattle on about his silly, hopeless agenda of reforming a man who was mere months away from ascending the scaffold, but Blackquill had heard it all countless times before. His mind was instead preoccupied with the trial. As much as the subject irked him at the moment, he couldn't help but worry faintly over Athena and wonder how she was holding up with the golden boy's insane testimony. He wasn't usually prone to sentimentality – seven years of hard time had dragged most of that out of him – but Athena, being one of the few remaining vestiges of his past, still triggered an almost fraternal tenderness within him, and despite its relative awkwardness to his current self, he had to admit that he did cherish those feelings of affection he had for her.

"Therefore, Prosecutor Blackquill, it is of critical importance that you always be on your best behavior," Fulbright was concluding when Blackquill reluctantly tuned back in to him. They had reached the defendant lobbies now, which, in the commotion of the trial, had been all but abandoned. "And as I've told you, you could do without making such dark-humored jokes during court!"

"And you could do without moving your tongue whensoever the urge should strike you, lest it be cut off," was the rather dark-humored response, and though his jabs at Fulbright were made more out of habit than they were intended as actual threats, Blackquill still found the detective's over-exaggerated reactions to be amusing enough to keep making them.

"P-Prosecutor Blackquill! Please don't say such things! P-people will take you seriously!"

"Who is to say I'm not being serious?"

Fulbright went pale and sputtered, releasing his hold on the prosecutor's arm to press both hands flat against his temples in yet another comical overreaction. Blackquill smiled to himself.

"I jest, Fool Bright." He glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. "Now come. We should be returning to the trial. I can only hope that Cykes-dono has finished with our mad golden boy's ludicrous testimony."

When he made to turn around, however, he felt a sudden weakness in his legs and stumbled slightly. He caught himself easily enough and managed to maintain his balance, but Fulbright, of course, simply _had_ to notice and was at his side supporting him in an instant.

"Prosecutor Blackquill, are you alright?!"

Blackquill grimaced and quickly straightened up. "I'm perfectly fine, Fool Bright, there's no need for the theatrics!" he growled, but the detective was shaking his head vehemently.

"No, no, no! You've been standing all day, and your body isn't used to it!" he cried, tightening his grip on Blackquill's arm as if that would imbue him with more stability.

"Wh-what are you jabbering about now?!"

After a cursory glance up and down the hallway, Fulbright guided his charge toward Defendant Lobby No. 2.

"Why don't we rest in here for a few minutes, sir?" he suggested, and without waiting for a response, he pulled Blackquill into the room and closed the door behind them. He then steered him to the sofa nearest them and lowered him by the shoulders onto it.

"Hmph. This really isn't necessary, Fool Bright – I can walk and stand perfectly fine!" Blackquill objected sourly, crossing his arms with a clank of his shackles.

"Let's just take a few moments to relax together, without anyone else to bother us – okay, Prosecutor?"

Blackquill looked up sharply. The man standing before him was, undoubtedly and by all appearances, Bobby Fulbright. And yet, something in his voice just then had sounded… _off_. For a moment, he couldn't think of a better word to describe it until, slowly, another came into focus in his mind.

_Familiar_.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you kindly to my reviewers and to everyone who faved/followed this fic! :) Your feedback is always welcome and appreciated! Now, enjoy chapter 2!

**Rated M** for language, mild violence, and explicit sexual content containing scenes of dub-con (dubious consent).

**Spoilers for:** Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Dual Destinies

* * *

A moment was all it took for Fulbright to return to his usual cheery, stupid self. "You shouldn't push yourself too much, sir," he said, taking a seat beside the prosecutor. "It's best to take it slowly with these kinds of things."

"I'm not a child, Fool Bright," Blackquill said distractedly. He was still hung up on the detective's subtle but jarring change in tone. His mind backtracked through his memories, searching vainly for the one that could place that voice, but it was too small a clue, the proverbial needle in the haystack. There was too much going on around him, had been too much going on throughout the trial, and without the chance to first digest it all in solitude, he had little hope of making any significant progress. Later, he decided, when the trial was over and he was returned to his cell with nothing else _to_ do but think – that's when he would figure this conundrum out.

"The trial marches on without us," he said after a moment, rising from his seat. "Come, Fool Bright." He started for the door.

It took only an instant for Fulbright to scramble from the couch and throw himself between Blackquill and the door, arms spread wide to bar his exit, much to the latter's surprise and annoyance.

"Now, now, there's no need to be hasty, Prosecutor Blackquill!" he said, bringing one hand to his face so that he could push up his glasses. "I'm certain Ms. Lawyer must still be in the middle of her therapy session. We shouldn't interrupt her!"

"Regardless," Blackquill countered, leveling the idiot detective with his fiercest glare, "I intend to see to my duties as prosecutor of this case. Now remove yourself from my path, or be cut down in it."

But to his increasing irritation, Fulbright remained where he was. When the detective next spoke, it was with an almost icy detachment, so uncharacteristic of him that Blackquill was somewhat taken aback.

"Prosecutor Blackquill, being the man singlehandedly responsible for your rehabilitation, I hate to be the one to inform you of this," he said, "but you are a prisoner currently under my watch, and you have no right to be making demands of me, your handler."

Blackquill could feel his temper rising, and it took all he had to keep it in check. "And you, Fool Bright," he growled, "a mere police detective, have absolutely no right to interfere with the duties that have been given to me by the chief prosecutor himself."

He didn't expect what happened next, though perhaps he should have, and so it was all the more unpleasant when the sudden electric current from his shackles coursed through his wrists, up his arms, and then, painfully, into his chest, causing him to cry out and leaving him gasping on his knees.

"Ah, Prosecutor Blackquill, you know how much I hate to do this to you," came Fulbright's voice from above him, and a steady hand was placed over his shoulder. Blackquill was sorely tempted to shake it off in defiance, but his body was trembling on its own and wouldn't obey. Aside from that, he was conditioned enough to know that any more cheek would only earn him another round of painful electricity, and he hardly wanted to repeat the experience.

_You could have fooled me, Fool Bright_, he thought in response to the detective's blasé remark. All he said was, "Damn these infernal shackles!"

Fulbright laughed lightly in a way that, had it been anybody else, would have been thoroughly inappropriate to the situation. "Now, Prosecutor Blackquill, punishment and positive reinforcement are instrumental in your rehabilitation, you understand!" He crouched down and, without warning, lifted his charge's left wrist from where it was supporting him on the floor. "But perhaps I should check to make sure I haven't done any permanent damage…"

There was a jangling of keys, and Blackquill instantly raised his head in alarm. "What do you think you're doing, Fool Bright?!" he cried as the detective moved to unlock his shackle. "Don't you realize what I could do to you if I were free of these?!"

Fulbright only laughed again. "Be at ease, sir! I'm just checking to make sure I haven't left any marks!"

"With an electric current? Of course not!" Blackquill grumbled, but he kept his eyes warily on his handler as his shackle was removed and the cool softness of a glove slid over his chafed wrist. The sensation made him shudder and attempt to jerk his hand away, but Fulbright held him strong.

"You see? You do have marks here!" he cried, running his thumb up and down the white skin there, and Blackquill had to clench his other fist, breathing deeply, to keep from lashing out. "These look like they're from struggling. Prosecutor Blackquill, you really must refrain from breaking your shackles in court! You wouldn't want to end up with scars, would you?"

"I'll be dead soon enough," he ground out, heart beating rapidly against his ribs. "I hardly think it matters."

He barely heard Fulbright's subsequent laughter; he was too focused on the heat and color rising in his pallid face as the detective continued to hold his wrist, rubbing the sensitive skin with silky gloved fingers. His own heartbeat was starting to become uncomfortable to him as it increased in speed and force, and even his breathing was starting to falter.

"But you have such soft, beautiful skin," Fulbright said, and then, suddenly, his tongue was there, warm and wet against Blackquill's wrist, tracing across the marks his shackle had pressed into the flesh. Blackquill shivered, his mind blanking at the absurdity, the sheer _insanity_ of the situation as a jolt of – _something_ – shot through him, far from unpleasant but certainly not _enjoyable_. And then he felt teeth as Fulbright _bit_ him, took a pull of his skin into his mouth and nibbled on it. The sensation of pain brought him back to himself, and he shoved the detective away from him with as much force as he could muster.

The next thing he knew, he was fully prostrate on the ground, writhing from the aftereffects of another electric shock. Though it was only from one wrist this time, it hurt just as much as it had the first time, possibly more, and he suspected Fulbright had upped the voltage for that very reason.

"Now, now, you know you can't react with physical violence, Prosecutor. That won't do at all."

There it was – that voice again. And it wasn't just the voice, Blackquill realized – Fulbright's whole manner of speaking had changed. It was subtle, certainly; but there was a curtness, a perceptible detachment there that, without question, did not belong to Detective Bobby Fulbright.

Blackquill was too weak, too stunned to resist as his coat was removed, the detective carefully sliding his arms out of it before tossing it onto the sofa. And so he was left with his waistcoat and undershirt and, in his opinion, much less presence. Fulbright proved himself to be much stronger than the prosecutor had ever given him credit for when, a moment later, he knelt beside him, slid his hands under his arms, and heaved him up onto his knees.

"What are you doing, Fool Bright?" Blackquill murmured, still in a daze as Fulbright drew his arms behind him and reattached his left shackle. "I can't prosecute like this!" he added angrily once he realized what had been done, and he strained his wrists against the handcuffs to demonstrate.

"Calm down, sir, we're not going back to the trial yet," Fulbright answered, sounding perfectly like himself again as he helped the prosecutor to his feet. "You're clearly very agitated, and so I, your rehabilitator, am going to help you relax!"

"Enough of your games," Blackquill snapped as he was led over to the sofa. "Or I'll break my shackles here and now!"

Fulbright only laughed as he seated himself and fruitlessly beckoned for his charge to do the same. "You may try if you like, Prosecutor Blackquill! But you don't have a desk to help you do it here! And don't forget who's really in control – or did your past lessons fail to make an impression on you?" He smiled and tapped his coat pocket where, undoubtedly, that damned control for the shackles was.

Though Blackquill was loath to resign so easily, he had absolutely no desire to be shocked yet another time. _Fine_, he decided at last, _I'll play your little game, Fool Bright, if only to find out what secret you're keeping from me_.

He reluctantly turned his back to the detective, about to take his seat, when a hand shot out, took hold of the chain connecting his shackles, and pulled him down.

"What are you –?!"

With a good amount of groping, struggling, and general manhandling, Blackquill found himself suddenly positioned so that he was lying flat across Fulbright's lap, chin pressed against the detective's thigh.

"Now," Fulbright said cheerfully, one hand gripping the chain so that it pinned the prosecutor's wrists together behind his back and the other holding his head down against the fabric of the couch, "shall we begin a therapy session of our own?"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Due to some readers commenting that part 4 of this fic is rather rushed, I think I'm going to go back and buff it up and slow it down a bit, so it might be a little while until it gets uploaded here. I also have an academic paper to write by this weekend, as well as part 5 of this story, just to give you all a general idea of the time it will take to update over here. Until then, though, enjoy chapter 3! xP

**Rated M** for language, mild violence, and explicit sexual content containing scenes of dub-con (dubious consent).

**Spoilers for:** Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Dual Destinies

* * *

Blackquill could feel his heart beating wildly against Fulbright's leg as he struggled to free his hands from the detective's hold, at the very least. He _hated_ being restrained, had hated it for all of seven years, from that first moment he was put in handcuffs, young and trembling and afraid, and led away to what would become his own personal hell. He had, of course, learned to bear it – as a prisoner, he didn't really have the option _not_ to – but it had always been far from a pleasant experience. Being entirely helpless, unable to protect even himself, let alone those he cared about, was something he simply could not abide.

That was what he thought, at least, as he fought against Fulbright's grasp and demanded furiously, "What the devil are you doing, Fool Bright?! How dare you treat me, Simon Blackquill, like _this_?!"

His words were muffled by the upholstery his face was mashed against, and, now fully irate, he endeavored to throw Fulbright's hand off his head. The detective chuckled.

"It's good to see you so full of energy, Prosecutor Blackquill, but now is not the time for such antics," Fulbright said in his usual airy way. "I'm trying to help you relax, don't you see?"

Suddenly, his fingers closed around a handful of Blackquill's hair at the back of his head, and he drew his arm rapidly back. Blackquill inhaled sharply in spite of himself, eyes watering as he was forced into a cobra position, bent at the waist and with his wrists still pinned at the base of his spine.

"D-damn you," he growled through gritted teeth, face contorted with pain. He felt like his hair was being pulled out by the roots, and his head was already beginning to throb from the pressure.

"Behave yourself, sir," Fulbright murmured into his ear, and there was a warning in his voice that was almost – or was it? – a threat. He released his grip, and Blackquill collapsed back onto his lap, angry, bewildered, and with a growing sense of dread in his stomach. What ungodly force was possessing Fulbright to act so erratically – so aggressively? But before he had time to contemplate this, his shirt and waistcoat were suddenly lifted up, and a cool, intrusive gloved hand was working its way underneath the layers to his bare back.

"Fool Bright!" he gasped, attempting to twist his body away from the intimate touch, but Fulbright held fast to his bound wrists. The detective's wandering left hand, meanwhile, continued up and around to Blackquill's abdomen, which it languorously began to caress. Blackquill was growing hot both in the face and further down, to his horror, and he buried his head quickly into the sofa to suppress a moan that rose to his lips as Fulbright continued to stroke and massage the firm muscles at his stomach.

"Are you feeling more relaxed yet, sir?" he asked, and Blackquill couldn't answer for fear of letting out some lewd sound against his will. "You have such fine, sensitive abs – do you work out? Mm, but it's a wonder you never let anybody touch them!"

Blackquill's mind wasn't even functioning enough that he could construct a snarky response. But Fulbright was right; he had never let anyone touch him there, had never been touched so intimately _anywhere_. He struggled vainly with his handcuffs, but somehow, that only seemed to increase the eroticism of the whole situation. His hands were perfectly secured, leaving him unable to stop the onslaught of smooth sensory input no matter what he did. He was strapped in for the ride, whether he liked it or not.

Slowly, Fulbright's hand crawled higher, fingers trailing up his sternum before splaying fully apart over his chest. Then Blackquill felt a thumb slide over his nipple, squeezing and pressing circles into it, and before he could stop himself, he cried out.

"Prosecutor Blackquill, you can't be making such noises in here!" Fulbright laughed as his finger moved faster, harder. "What if one of the bailiffs hears you, sir?"

Blackquill hardly heard _him_; he was panting now, face flushed and hot, trousers growing tighter. He barely even noticed when Fulbright released his hold on his wrists so that he could give his other nipple the same attention. Had his mind been in the right place, he would have been ashamed – no, downright _disgusted_ by his own actions; as it was, he could only mindlessly push forward into Fulbright's touch, relishing the warm ecstasy that jolted through him like an all-too-familiar electric current.

"Nng… Stop, Fool Bright," he groaned even as his treacherous body continued to ease itself forward into the detective's fingers, moving with their motions. He felt himself growing stiffer and longed for relief. Soon enough, he was grinding his crotch into Fulbright's leg, desperate for any sort of friction to help satisfy the monstrous urges overtaking him. With a laugh, Fulbright lifted his knee and caught Blackquill square between the legs, causing the latter to jerk his head up and moan.

"Now, now, Prosecutor Blackquill, what did I tell you about making too much noise?" Fulbright admonished playfully, pausing in his circular motions to sharply pinch Blackquill's nipples, making him expel the breath he'd been holding all at once. "Should I help you keep that pretty mouth of yours shut?"

He suddenly withdrew his hands, and before Blackquill had a chance to answer his proposal with a firm negative, a white cloth was being forced between his teeth and neatly tied at the back of his neck. He realized a moment later that it was the fool's own handkerchief – _of course_ it was. Angrily, he tried to object, but his protests were garbled and muffled by the gag, and so he resignedly fell silent.

"You look cute like that," Fulbright said into his ear in _that _voice again, and then he pressed his leg up between the prosecutor's thighs. Blackquill screamed into his gag, though he didn't know if it was in rage or in pleasure. He wanted nothing more than to remove that stupid cloth from his mouth so that he could give that bloody detective the most heated, threat-laden reprimand of his life, but his hands remained bound uselessly behind him. He was still Fulbright's absolute prisoner, completely at his mercy and the mercy of his whims and fancies. Somehow, to his mind's repulsion, the thought made him harder.

"You look like you're pretty excited now, Prosecutor," Fulbright said, nudging Blackquill's bulge with his knee. "I think we should have a little more fun before we return to the trial."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait. ^^; Finally got around to editing and supplementing this part. Thanks for all the support both here and on the kink meme! I wouldn't have the motivation to keep writing without everyone's kind words and feedback! =) So without further ado, please enjoy part 4!

**Rated M** for language, mild violence, and explicit sexual content containing scenes of dub-con (dubious consent).

**Spoilers for:** Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Dual Destinies

* * *

Blackquill felt the breath knocked out of him as he was thrown suddenly to the floor. He could already feel a tender lump forming on the back of his head from where it struck the ground. Recovering himself, he tried to turn over onto his stomach so that he could push himself up onto his knees and at least have the small dignity of _sitting_, but Fulbright had other plans. He planted his foot over Blackquill's shoulder and forced him back down, effectively trapping his hands underneath him. The prosecutor growled through the cloth in his mouth.

"Calm down, sir," Fulbright said, smiling as he towered over him. "I just want to see what kind of face you make when..." He trailed off with an ominously giddy look on his face.

Blackquill lashed out with his legs, but Fulbright was already lowering himself onto his hips, restraining him between his thighs. Laughing, he outstretched a gloved hand and placed it on Blackquill's cheek, caressing him lovingly. Blackquill shuddered and tried, unsuccessfully, to buck him off.

"Stop being so feisty, sir!" Fulbright murmured into his ear. "It's… making me excited…" His breath was warm, even strangely _alluring_, though Blackquill would never admit it. He made a noise in his throat that he hoped would sound threatening enough to scare the detective off of him, but it was in vain; the fool was already hard as a rock through his trousers, and Blackquill was sure even a convincing death threat wouldn't be enough to stop him now. Still, he objected inarticulately again, if only to show he was putting up _some_ resistance to Fulbright's undeniable, _unacceptable_ sex appeal.

To his immense annoyance, however, the detective only sat up and wagged a finger at him. "You see, Prosecutor Blackquill, this is why you lost your speaking privileges!" he said, and the prosecutor seethed at Fulbright's assumption that he had control over something like that. "Now, if you'll promise to quiet down, then I can allow you to speak again." He leaned close so that their chests were flat against each other, rising and falling with their breathing, and then pressed a small, tender kiss into the cloth binding his charge's mouth.

The gesture was so unexpectedly gentle that Blackquill thought his face must have lit up like a schoolgirl's, and before he fully realized what he was doing, he was nodding his head in acquiescence of the condition. Fulbright smiled at that, then reached behind him, undid the knot on the gag, and tossed it aside. Before the prosecutor could speak in reluctant thanks, however, the detective was smashing their lips together with a sudden violent hunger.

The kiss was hard, dominating, and utterly passionless. It was a demonstration of power, not seduction, nothing like the kiss that came before it, and Blackquill at once hated and craved that tantalizing control Fulbright exerted over him. He could feel his lips bruising from the roughness of the contact. How was he going to hide that unseemly mark of possession? Did he even _want_ to?

A moment later, when reason abruptly returned to him, he jerked his head to the side, breaking the kiss. "Damn you, Fool Bright!" he spat out, not for the first time that day. "What the devil do you think you're doing, taking advantage of me like that?! You have gall for such an empty-headed simpleton!"

Fulbright recoiled dramatically. "B-but Prosecutor Blackquill!" he cried. "You seemed like you were enjoying yourself so much! How could I know that –?"

"Shut up, Fool Bright!" Blackquill interrupted sharply. "What part of me was 'enjoying' being bound and molested by the likes of you?!"

The detective grinned. "Why, _this_ part, sir," he said, sliding his hand over the hardness at Blackquill's crotch, which was still painfully tight.

Blackquill flushed and twisted away from his hand. "It was you who caused that, you dotard!" he snapped.

"Then allow me to take care of it, sir."

Suddenly, Fulbright was leaning forward, hands scrabbling at the prosecutor's trousers to undo them. A moment later saw them and his underwear down around his ankles, his cock leaping up toward his stomach. The tip was already wet and dribbling.

"F-Fool Bright!" he cried, aghast, head snapping to the side to glance wildly at the door. "W-we can't do that here! At court! _In the middle of a bloody trial_!"

"But sir, surely you can't prosecute in this state!" Fulbright interjected, staring quite pointedly at the prosecutor's erect member. "But don't despair! I'll make short work of your little problem! You can trust me on that!"

Blackquill absolutely did _not_ trust the fool detective for _anything_ he was worth. He gasped and arched his hips as a final attempt at a protest as Fulbright lowered himself over his abdomen and took the head of his cock into his warm mouth. Blackquill squirmed as a soft tongue began to swirl around his tip, licking it from top to bottom, rolling it, slipping in and out of the slit with finesse. He wanted to reach up and grab Fulbright's hair, yank him down so that his cock filled the detective's mouth completely. He wanted to feel the tightness of his throat pulse around his thoroughly aroused member. But his hands were still bound behind him, and though he moaned in frustration and pulled at his shackles, Fulbright refused to acknowledge him and continued to take his time, bobbing his head slowly up and down the shaft and tasting anything and everything his tongue fell upon in the process.

In his early years in the clink, Blackquill had often given head, and allowed himself to be abused in far worse ways, in order to secure protection for himself. He had never enjoyed it and had even developed a sort of revulsion toward it. Even after he'd firmly established his reputation as the Twisted Samurai, someone to be feared and respected, he never made the other inmates do to him what he, with only self-preservation in mind, had once offered so freely. As a result, he had never before been serviced like this. He hated to admit that it was actually _pleasant_.

He was nearing his release now; the pressure in his cock was mounting at an astonishing rate and quickly growing painful. Fulbright was using everything at his disposal – tongue, teeth, and lips – to bring him closer and closer to climax. He couldn't hold out for much longer, and he breathed in time with Fulbright's thrusts in heated anticipation…

And then the detective stopped, and Blackquill's member slid easily from his mouth, coated in a froth of saliva and precum. "Bl-bloody hell!" he panted, thrusting his hips up with a needy groan. "Don't stop there! Allow me my release, you fool!"

"But Prosecutor Blackquill, I have needs too, you know!" Fulbright whined, wiping his mouth with his hand, and if he hadn't been overturned on his back with his hands restrained and a raging boner, Blackquill would have gotten up and physically knocked some sense into the detective.

With a huff, he said, "Then allow me to take care of it myself! Unbind my hands, Fool Bright."

"You know I can't do that, sir!" he objected, infuriatingly waggling that finger again, as if at a naughty child. "You're a criminal and can't simply be set loose, no matter the circumstance!"

Blackquill was about to counter by reminding him that he'd done just that only minutes before, in this very room, but Fulbright pressed on, "In any case, that wasn't what I meant, sir!"

Blackquill was then about to ask what it was he _had_ meant when, all of a sudden, the detective stood, undid his own trousers, and dropped them to the floor. The prosecutor felt his already bloated cock tingle and harden at the sight, and his face grew red once again.

Fulbright smiled at the reaction and, very blithely, said, "Prosecutor Blackquill, I want to fuck you. Please let me put this inside of you."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** So I was on the verge of finishing the final chapter of this fic when my computer up and died on me. Urrgh. It might be two to three weeks before I can get it fixed, so I apologize for the delay. In the meantime, my other fics will be updating within that time since I usually write them on my phone, so please check them out! In any case, thanks for all the support, and please enjoy this (admittedly rather short) penultimate chapter! :)

**Rated M** for language, mild violence, and explicit sexual content containing scenes of dub-con (dubious consent).

**Spoilers for:** Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Dual Destinies

* * *

"No," Blackquill said flatly, and Fulbright pulled back in shock.

"But –" he started, and Blackquill cut him off.

"Hmph. That's not how an eager little cur asks to sit on his master's lap," he said, bitingly. He'd been submissive to the idiot detective long enough, and now he was determined to take back control. If this simpering lapdog was going to have his way with him, then it was going to be purely on _his_, Prosecutor Simon Blackquill's, terms and nobody else's. "Come over here and finish servicing me, Fool Bright, and then I'll _consider_ allowing you your play."

Fulbright looked conflicted, like part of him wanted to argue and the other, comply. There was a steady, almost calculating look in his eyes that didn't suit him, and Blackquill, a little unnerved by it, reinforced his order with a sharp, "Now!"

"Y-yes, sir!" Fulbright relented at last, and he dropped to his knees again and crawled between the prosecutor's legs. Blackquill held back a satisfied groan as his cock was once again enveloped by the detective's hot mouth.

"Now make this quick," he managed to pant out as Fulbright started to work his member again with his tongue and teeth. "M-must I continually remind you that –" He gasped and jerked his hips upward as Fulbright took him deeper. "– that we're missing the trial…?"

His words had their intended effect; Fulbright moved even closer, taking as much of his cock into his mouth as it would hold. His own dick, now stiff and damp, brushed against Blackquill's leg with the movement, arousing both men further, and his tongue worked frantically, growing sloppy with hunger and desperation. Though he tried to keep quiet for fear of being overheard, Blackquill couldn't help but grunt with pleasure and exertion as the detective fucked his own throat on the hardened length of his cock.

Having been so close to his release already, it didn't take long for Blackquill to climax, releasing his seed into Fulbright's mouth and over his face as he cried out. Fulbright, to his credit, swallowed all he could of it and then proceeded to lap from his lips what he'd missed, like a loyal mutt.

Blackquill lay back, breathing heavily and feeling, for the moment, strangely euphoric. Though he was the one with the restricted freedom (his bound hands were starting to go numb underneath him), he'd managed to reinstate his control and get Fulbright to pleasure him to climax. The fool was looking at him now with an eager and expectant face, _his_ cock still hard and swollen. Blackquill sighed.

"Like I said before, Fool Bright, make it quick!" he said brusquely, and Fulbright saluted, looking so ridiculous that Blackquill couldn't help but snort.

"I won't let you down, sir!" he said, causing the prosecutor to roll his eyes. He then quickly set about removing his charge's boots and his lower garments, which had bunched around his ankles after their previous activities. That done, he scooted even closer to Blackquill, draping the prosecutor's bare legs over his shoulders, and directed his dick toward his entrance.

"W-wait a moment, Fool Bright!" Blackquill cried, giving the detective pause. "You-you can't just – just _put it in there_! You have to –" His face got hot all at once, and he was sure it must be red. "You have to s-stretch it first!"

Fulbright didn't move, and for several silent, terrified moments, Blackquill really thought he was going to shove it in anyways. But then the detective chuckled and drew back. "Of course, sir," he said gaily. "As you like it."

_Like it?!_ Blackquill thought, part enraged and part incredulous. _That monstrous thing would have torn me in half!_

Like before, Fulbright was quick to get down to business. Without removing his glove, he prodded at Blackquill's entrance, causing him to shudder violently, and then slipped his index finger inside. Blackquill felt his ass clench on its own around Fulbright's finger, and he squirmed in discomfort, trying to acclimate himself to the feeling of the unnatural intrusion. He hadn't been penetrated in years, and his hole was tight, almost virginal. He flushed at his own impudence in comparing himself, a hardened criminal, to some silly virgin.

When the second finger went in, he had to bite down on his tongue and press his legs against Fulbright's back to keep from hissing in pain. In fact, that was _all_ he felt as the detective started to draw his fingers apart and then bring them back together, a motion he repeated at a gradually increasing pace until Blackquill was gasping and squeezing his eyes shut. Fulbright didn't ask him if he was okay; he merely inserted a third finger so that Blackquill felt like he was fit to burst and then continued his quick, unrefined movements.

He didn't realize he'd gotten hard again until, abruptly, the fingers were removed, and all he could feel was the dull throb of his ass and his painfully tightening cock. To his trepidation, he didn't feel any more prepared to take Fulbright's dick inside him than he had before, but already, the detective was bearing down on him with a full, eager erection.


End file.
